This morning we hosted a hen party.
A high tea for thirteen young women.
They had booked six weeks ago, were all staying in a rented house nearby, brought fizz for us to chill the day before and then an hour before the event they brought decorations, balloons and signs. They hung paper lanterns from the ceiling and lit candles.
The table looked gorgeous.
The ladies looked gorgeous.
The bride wore a sash.
They sat and chatted outside after their high tea and then went on to their next venue where they were going sailing for the afternoon.
As they were mid-tea a dozen men in their twenties and thirties walked in.
A stag group.
We’d never hosted any element of a stag party before. We didn’t know they were coming. We’re not usually the sort of venue associated with such things.
They had been quad biking locally for the morning and each ordered individually. A few cream teas, a few coffees, one panini. They sat outside having pulled a few tables together.
Perhaps they’ll all meet up in a Worcester nightclub later this evening?
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